


When Words Become Superfluous

by preussisch_blau



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bad dates, Doppelcest, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 08:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preussisch_blau/pseuds/preussisch_blau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kissing prompt meme on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stop (Harry/Harrison)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better" + Earth-2 Harry/Earth-1 Harrison

Harrison woke up with a sharp gasp, the images of his nightmare still circling in his head. He blinked once, twice, then gave up on finding any consolation in the shadows on the ceiling. He glanced over at the man sleeping next to him, wondered briefly if he should wake him.

No, no. That… wasn’t a good idea, not right now. Not with the sight of his own face doing horrible, monstrous things still so fresh in his mind. Harrison dragged his hand across his forehead and closed his eyes, tried to will himself back to sleep. 

Counting sheep didn’t work - not when the sheep turned to people, and the people fell dead. Clearing his mind was an exercise in futility, mainly because he was terrified of that blank feeling of passive observation. Even science failed him, perhaps because so much of what he might have pondered was influenced by the memories of Eobard Thawne.

He looked over at Harry again. By now the moon had traversed its course enough to shine low through the window, though it didn’t help Harry stand out much from the dark sheets. Harrison shivered again. He really needed to talk to Harry about the penchant for black the man had. It was… disconcerting, to say the least.

He sighed, then twisted to flop his arm over Harry and bury his face between his shoulder blades. Up close like this, not having to look at the man, it was easy to remember it wasn’t the Reverse Flash, sprung from his nightmares to lay quietly next to him. He breathed deeply, trying to focus on the moment, taking in the scent of the lemongrass soap Harry favoured.

Harrison wasn’t aware he’d woken Harry until his voice, sleep-rough and soft, cut into his thoughts. “Nightmare?”

“No,” he mumbled, not even trying to sound less miserable than he felt.

Harry snorted, his back jumping under Harrison’s nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Harrison couldn’t help but grin. “I know.” 

And perhaps he sounded too pleased about that, but he had every right to. After all, Eobard had been magnificently _good_ at lying, in Harrison’s estimation, and any difference between him and the man who’d run his life for most of the past sixteen years was only a good thing in his book.

Harry inched away slightly and rolled over in a quick motion before Harrison was able to keep him from doing so. Harrison flinched back before he could fully stop himself.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” Harry said.

“No… Not really.” The nightmare was still too fresh, too painful. He’d been stuck in his chair and Eobard had used his appearance, had used _Harry’s_ appearance to- Harrison shivered again and squeezed his eyes closed. He wasn’t going to think about that, wasn’t going to think about watching everyone _die,_ starting with Jesse - still mercifully asleep down the hall, and not begging a man who looked like her father to stop. He was going to focus on the phosphenes, and resolutely not think about how the red flashes behind his eyelids were the same colour as speed.

His concentration was broken by the light press of lips against his forehead. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he muttered petulantly.

“Thinking so hard,” Harry replied. Harrison thought he sounded a bit terse, but he couldn’t tell if it was because Harry was angry at being awake, or simply angry at the world as usual. “You’re _buzzing._ It’s annoying.”

He opened his mouth to snap out the most insincere apology he might ever have uttered, but barely got past, “I-” before he was silenced with another kiss, this one pushed forcefully against his mouth.

“What was that for?” Harrison squawked instead when Harry pulled back, finally opening his eyes to glare at him. He was not in the mood to be kissed. Or maybe he was, because it was a lot easier to just exist in the moment when busy doing something - or someone - else. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted it to be Harry. Not that he didn’t love his doppelgänger, perhaps a bit more than strictly warranted, but he still wasn’t quite able to bear looking at the man.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You were thinking. I told you to stop.”

Harrison rolled away from him, back popping slightly as he straightened his spine to lay flat on the bed once more. He crossed his arms over his chest and resolutely stared down the ceiling. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yep,” Harry agreed.

“And a dick.”

“Yep.” This time Harry popped the ‘p’.

Harrison tilted his head slightly to peer over at Harry, who had moved to sit up at some point after he’d pulled away. “Just because I don’t like being called _annoying_ for having a normal response to a _nightmare-_ ”

“You’re thinking again.”

He clenched his teeth, counted backwards from the tenth digit of Euler’s number. “If you don’t let me finish a senten-”

“Still thinking.”

“I am going to _throt-_ ”

“Do you ever stop thinking?” Harry leaned forwards and rested his chin on his hand as he looked at Harrison.

“Do you ever _shut up?_ ” Harrison snapped in return. He was absolutely going to _deck_ Eobard if he didn’t stop telling him to quit thinking and be quiet and stop having a personality like a _proper_ arrangement of neurons.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

He took a deep breath as he pushed himself upright. No. No, this was _Harry,_ not Thawne, even if they shared a face. Which wasn’t quite right, Eobard had had a very different face up until he’d copied Harrison’s body.

Not that it made hearing Harry say ‘stop thinking’ hurt any less. Not that it made it any easier to look at Harry in that moment, when he sat there clad in black and looking far too much like Eobard for Harrison’s comfort. He growled under his breath, then reached over and grabbed the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

He tasted faintly like mint. 

Harrison hated mint.

Eobard, on the other hand…

Harrison pulled back slightly. “Just. Do me a favour and shut up.”

“I’ll think about i-”

Harrison cut him off with another desperate kiss, not particularly in the mood for Harry’s particular brand of wit. Their wit, really, because that was the same smart-assed sort of joke he might have made had their positions been reversed. He broke away after a few long seconds, rested his temple against Harry’s cheek and breathed.

Harry’s hand carded through his hair, pushed the strands up towards the top of his head then smoothed them back down. It was comforting as much as it broke Harrison’s heart, made him miss his Tess. Never mind the slight pang of disgust in himself for taking solace in the affection of a man who was, for all intents and purposes, his twin. What did that say about him?

Probably nothing good.

He cut his train of thought off with a turn of his head and yet another kiss, this time to Harry’s cheek. No. No more thinking. If only to keep Harry from opening his damn mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Harrison wasn’t sure what he was apologising for - waking Harry up, being such a damned mess, loving him too much; the possibilities were _endless_ \- but it seemed right.

“No need for that.”

“I know.” He whispered against Harry’s skin.

Harrison pushed Harry back down against their bed and kissed him again, bit at his lips and jaw, grounded himself with the give of flesh under his teeth and the scrape of stubble against his lips. And, for the moment, it was almost enough.


	2. Better Than Expected (Harrison/Tess)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "First kiss" + Harrison Wells/Tess Morgan

Truth be told, Harrison had expected their first kiss to go about as well as it had. After all, it fit their relationship from day one.

His meeting Tess had been… an experience, to say the least. By which it must be understood that he fell hard for her, in the very literal sense. He’d been dashing across one of the courtyards on campus, running just on time for his 1 PM lecture, when he’d gone flying and crashed into the ground.

He ended up missing the lecture between apologising profusely for tripping over the outstretched legs of one Tess Morgan, who he had not seen sitting on that bench, _honest,_ and being verbally flayed alive by Tess’ friend - the woman’s name escaped him - for not watching where he was going. (It had not helped when, after a solid minute of ranting, Harrison had muttered that _maybe_ Miss Morgan shouldn’t have had her legs stretched straight out into the damn _walkway._ )

Well. That hadn’t been his exact phrasing - he hadn’t known Tess’ name at the time - but it had still added another two minutes of shrieking to his life. The only reason he’d even stuck around was to make sure Tess was alright and he hadn’t hurt her badly. He hadn’t cut his losses and fled the moment the yelling started simply because he’d ended up a touch mesmerised by Tess’ rather gorgeous eyes.

Her friend had ended up storming off in disgust when she realised Harrison wasn’t paying attention to a word she was saying, but Tess had stuck around.

“Sorry, she’s a little… intense,” Tess said with a wry grin, before she offered out her hand and her name.

Harrison insisted on getting her lunch to make up for the fact that he’d tripped over her, and not at all because he was smitten. (Maybe a little because he was smitten. Either way, it had been a good call, because she was fiendishly intelligent and highly amused when, halfway through their sandwiches, he’d gone pale as he remembered where he was _supposed_ to be at this hour.)

Their second date - because by some stroke of fortune she wanted to see him again despite giving a first impression of being a walking disaster - turned into fixing his beater of a car when it refused to start in her apartment complex’s parking lot. They’d ended up missing the movie he’d planned to take her to, but he figured they probably had more fun determining why it was his car wouldn’t start and fixing the problem. (When Tess had gone back into her apartment for a multimeter, Harrison knew he was in love.)

The less said about the third date, the better. If he’d thought getting a second date was good luck, the fact that she hadn’t left in the middle of the third after telling him to forget her number was positively _miraculous_ and enough to make Harrison reconsider his stance on God. (Even the nurse at the ER gave them a skeptical look when they explained that the rather impressive black eye Tess was sporting was from a game of _mini golf._ Harrison couldn’t blame him, to be honest.)

But somehow. Somehow Tess had agreed to a fourth date, and Harrison had hoped and prayed he wouldn’t mess this one up as well. He generally wasn’t that scatter-brained, or clumsy, though… well, it wasn’t a stretch to say that his luck was never the greatest.

Naturally, he managed to knock Tess’ soda over.

Somewhere in the middle of frantically trying to wipe up the mess before it got on her, their heads bumped together. Well, more specifically, Tess’ forehead hit his jaw hard, and it drove his teeth into his lower lip - or perhaps more accurately his lip into his teeth - with enough force to draw blood.

“Ow! Damn it!” Harrison smacked his hand over his mouth almost as soon as he spoke. Which hurt about as badly as busting his lip open had, but it was the principle of the matter. The principle that one did not _curse_ around their _girlfriend,_ particularly when it was their own stupid _fault_ that any of this happened in the first place.

Tess quirked an eyebrow at him as she sat back. The corners of her mouth twitched, and Harrison was fairly certain this was the moment she’d tell him off, tell him to fuck off. “Are you okay?”

“Yef,” he mumbled around his hand.

She reached up and gently moved his hand away from his mouth, then winced. Then Tess shook her head.

“What?” Harrison asked.

She smiled, the same soft, amused look she’d given him when he’d realised he’d forgotten entirely that he was supposed to be at a lecture the day they’d met. “You, Harrison Wells, are absolutely ridiculous.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, though before he had a chance to ask what she meant, never mind consider why she sounded so absolutely in love when she said that, Tess leaned in and kissed him gently.

His lip didn’t hurt nearly so badly after that. (Or perhaps it was just he was too happy to care about a trivial amount of pain.)


End file.
